


Dad

by Fastern



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Babybones, Complicated Relationships, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fastern/pseuds/Fastern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A oneshot about Sans and Papyrus as children—and the complicated relationship they have with their dad. Was going to be a multichaptered story, but I don't have time for another long story so it's just a oneshot now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dad

> "I'm cold. Can we stop?"  
>    
>  "In a minute. Tell me what you see."  
>    
>  "A hallway."  
>    
>  "Are you alone?"  
>    
>  "No."  
>    
>  "Who do you see?"  
>    
>  "Chara."  
>    
>  "Don't be silly. That doesn't correlate with the data I've collected. I may need to readjust the frequency, so you're going to feel a slight—"  
>    
>  "No, it's Chara. I can see it in their eyes. They've killed before."  
>    
>  "I don't appreciate your morbid sense of humour while we're working."  
>    
>  "I'm cold."  
>    
>  "I know, I know—just...just a little bit longer, alright? What else can you see?”  
>    
>  “…”  
>    
>  “…Sans?”

  
Sans startled awake and couldn't remember his dream.  
  
His mind flailed as he dragged himself out of the haze of exhaustion. Even though he was certain that he didn't want to remember, he tried to recall the images. He'd had the dream so many times that he'd memorized every insignificant detail, to the light powder of dust on Chara's sweater to the way the sun glinted off of their dagger. A golden hallway, foreboding and quiet. The uncontrollable fear. And Chara, a small human who he could never look in the eye. And as always, the dream left him disorientated and confused about where and when he was.  
  
Gaster always said that dreams didn't have meaning, that they were the fingerprints of memories and imagination. So why did it feel so real?  
  
Sans cracked open his eyes, and to his disdain, he was right where he always was.  
  
The bedroom he shared with his brother was a cramped space built on the concepts of functionality rather than aesthetics. (Gaster loathed wasted space.) As a result, the room had the air of a place where two clashing personalities vied for dominance. One half of the room was a disaster area littered with clutter, including old clothes and broken toys. The other was pristine and meticulous to a fault, save for an unfinished puzzle on the desk and a colour-coordinated army of action figures on the dresser.  
  
Sans was not on his side of the room. He was lying on his brother's bed—the one on the clean, clear side of the room.  
  
"Oh," Sans sighed. He remembered why he'd come into the room to begin with. Not to nap, but to clean up some of the litter on his side of the room.  
  
Papyrus was going to kill him.  
  
Right on time, heavy footsteps hurried down the hall outside like an army on the move. Papyrus was one of the loudest people Sans knew. He had a big mouth, a boisterous presence, and expressive eyes that always fixed on him with a patronizing stare. It was this stare that Sans was subjected to as his brother rounded the corner.  
  
Papyrus stopped dead in his tracks. He surveyed the mess.  
  
"You said you were going to clean up!" Papyrus exclaimed, his voice shrill like a toddler who wasn't getting his way.  
  
"I'm busy," said Sans.  
  
"It doesn't look like it. And you’re in my bed!”  
  
"It's not like you're using it right now," Sans pointed out.  
  
"It's the middle of the day! Why are you even in bed?"  
  
"Well, I've been lying here in deep contemplative thought, and I've come to the conclusion that—"  
  
"SANS, DON'T YOU DARE!"  
  
"— _Nothing really mattress_!"  
  
Papyrus grabbed the pillow and hit Sans with it.  
  
"Get up already!" Papyrus demanded. "I hate to see what terrible jokes you'll come up with if you lie there for too long!"  
  
"Okay, okay, I'm getting up," Sans relented.  
  
Sans rolled over to the edge of the bed and landed face-first on the floor.  
  
"SANS!" Papyrus hollered. "Are you just gonna lie on the floor all day?!"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"You are such a pain!" Papyrus bemoaned. "I wish I had a pet rock instead of a brother!"  
  
“Really? C’mon, you know a rock would _shale_ in comparison to me."  
  
“DA-A-AD!” Papyrus screamed.  
  
"What's the matter, Paps? Do my jokes _aggregate_ you?"  
  
"At least a pet rock would be quieter!"  
  
Sans chuckled, a chuckle cut short as Papyrus poked him in the ribs.  
  
"What're you doing?" Sans asked.  
  
"Trying to make you move," said Papyrus.  
  
"Stop it."  
  
"No."  
  
"Stop it!"  
  
"MAKE ME!”  
  
Sans aimed a half-hearted attempt at a slap at Papyrus, but ran out of motivation partway through and only succeeded in brushing his pant leg.  
  
"I'm telling Dad!" Papyrus announced.  
  
Papyrus fled from the room, shouting for their father.  
  
"Shoot," Sans muttered. He scrambled up and chased after him. "Hey, Paps! Wait a second!"  
  
He didn't have to go far to find his brother. Their family lived in a small apartment situated above their father's laboratory, and Papyrus hovered at the staircase now, motionless and tense. At the bottom, Sans couldn't see much of anything beyond the strange silhouettes that he often saw.  
  
"Dad!" Papyrus shouted. "Sans is being a pain! Tell him to stop!"  
  
There was a momentary silence from the laboratory below, and then, a voice drifted up.  
  
"I know that fighting each other is your favourite pass time, but can't you do it quietly?" W D Gaster's voice called from a distance. "Why don't you channel your rage through a suitable activity, like a board game?"  
  
"Sans cheats!" Papyrus shouted.  
  
"I don't cheat!" Sans protested. "Those kinds of games _board_ me to tears!"  
  
Papyrus slapped his hands over his ears. Or, since he was a skeleton, he settled for pressing them on either side of his head where his ears would have been if he had flesh.  
  
"DAD, MAKE HIM STOP!" Papyrus pleaded.  
  
"That's enough, you two," Gaster called. "Go play outside for a bit."  
  
The frustration written in Papyrus's curt frown melted into disappointment. His face tensed, as if anticipating his father to continue, but all they heard from downstairs was the faint rustling of papers.  
  
Papyrus made one of his more impressive exits, heading to the door that led to the courtyard and stomping his feet the whole way. He slammed the door behind him. Sans hesitated before following. It would be no use to try to resume his nap now, not when his thoughts raced and he was gripped by the unquenchable need for air.  
  
The courtyard served as one of the few reprieves from the confinements of the laboratory. Surrounded by high walls and decorated with bioluminescent plants, it wasn't so much a backyard as a botanist's personal conservatory. Their father collected the plants as samples for his research, but it was Papyrus's responsibility to tend to them. Papyrus was on the far side now, watering like he always did when he was upset. Directly opposite of the front door was the gate.  
  
Sans made a beeline right for it. The direct movement didn't go unnoticed and Papyrus looked up from his work, his expression shifting from anger to stark fear. The water can hit the ground.  
  
"What're you doing?" Papyrus demanded just as Sans reached the gate.  
  
"Going out," said Sans.  
  
"You can't keep doing this. Dad says we can't leave the lab without supervision."  
  
"So why does he keep the gate unlocked?"  
  
"Because he trusts us!"  
  
"Well, that's a bit of a mistake on his part, isn't it?"  
  
Sans cracked the gate open and was immediately hit with the bustle he associated with Hotland. He paused for only a moment before emerging from the laboratory, not caring where he was so long as he wasn't within shouting distance of Papyrus.  
  


* * *

  
Hotland was a veritable cocktail of monsters, meaning that Sans could slip, unnoticed, among their ranks. To Papyrus, the distraction presented by the outside world was dangerous, but to Sans it was exciting and unknown and as far away from the laboratory as he could get without walking all the way to Snowdin.  
  
There were many attractions to occupy his time, but Sans's favourite stomping grounds was an arcade two blocks from the lab. It was dark, save for the glow coming from the machines, and all the monsters were too involved in the games to pay attention to him. Sans had come here the first time he'd escaped from the lab. He wasn't sure why he was so drawn to it. Perhaps it was because the ostentatious atmosphere completely contrasted with the withdrawn lab. Either way, the voices and the machines were so loud that they drowned out whatever nagging thoughts he had.  
  
He spent the rest of the afternoon roaming from game to game, and watching the crowds shift and swell. That was part of the allure of leaving the laboratory. They hardly got any through traffic, save for the occasional assistant or tutor. Still, Gaster preferred to work alone, his colleagues were few and far between, and he liked to personally oversee the education of his sons. It wasn't as though Sans didn't appreciate how much he seemed to care for them, even if he was a workaholic. Sans didn't even know exactly what he worked on, except that it had to do with the barrier. Or human SOULs. One or the other. Or maybe both?  
  
Sans shook his head and refocused his attention on the game he was playing. Maybe Gaster would be able to relax more if he took time of his day to explore a hobby that didn't involve mad experiments.  
  
All the same, Gaster made sure that Sans and Papyrus were entertained. Somehow it was never quite enough to satiate Sans's thirst for a sliver of freedom. Papyrus was all too happy to abide by Gaster's rules, but not Sans. No, never Sans. He wasn't going to idly accept the circumstances of their lives. Besides, he didn't see what Gaster was so afraid of. Most monsters Sans met were considerate and fascinating personalities hailing from all walks of life. There weren't any humans around to threaten their safety, and although Hotland was filled with magma, it wasn't as though Sans was stupid enough to throw himself into it.  
  
These were questions Sans often pondered. Gaster liked to tell him that he was a natural scientist: inquisitive, observant, and suspicious. What he didn't anticipate was Sans directing his questions at Gaster, and the reasons behind his overprotectiveness.  
  
Sans didn't expect answers, and he knew he was silly for asking questions. After all, Gaster was a fan of discretion, and when he was involved, it was difficult to discern truth from fiction.  
  
Time, as always, seemed to move far too fast in the arcade. One moment, Sans had just arrived, and the next he realized that the crowds were thinning and he was one of the few monsters left at the machines. He sensed that soon he would have to go home, since if he wasn't home for dinner Gaster would certainly notice his absence. It wasn't like he kept tabs on his sons during the day, but if they weren't present at a meal, he tended to get suspicious.  
  
Sans frowned. Still, one more game couldn't hurt.  
  
He weaved his way through the arcade, right towards his favourite game—Human Blaster 5000. He'd played it so many times that his name occupied all the high score slots and a few kids had even beaten him up once for winning too much. Sans braced himself, wondering if they were going to ambush him again.  
  
But instead of the gang of kids surrounding the machine, there was only one. It was Papyrus.  
  
Sans groaned. Not again.  
  
Papyrus folded his arms and glowered at Sans as he approached. He went right by his brother and put a coin in the machine.  
  
"I was just going to play one more game," said Sans truthfully.  
  
"You need to come home right now," Papyrus declared. "If Dad finds out I snuck out to bring you back, he'll kill me!"  
  
"Hey, I didn't tell you to follow me," said Sans.  
  
Papyrus watched over his shoulder as Sans played, blasting the human sprites with precision and expertise.  
  
"Go home, Papyrus," Sans ordered. "I can't concentrate if you're looming over my shoulder like that."  
  
Papyrus frowned. Then, he shoved him.  
  
Sans stumbled to the side. "What was that for?!"  
  
Sans struggled to get back to the machine, but it wasn't that easy. Papyrus blocked the way and they entered into a slapping fight. Normally this wouldn’t be a big deal, but Papyrus was much taller than Sans and could pin him down with ease. Papyrus only had to stall Sans a few seconds before the screen flashed 'GAME OVER', accompanied by the mocking music.  
  
"Thanks a lot!" Sans snarled. "You owe me money!"  
  
"I don't owe you anything," Papyrus protested. "I know you just steal from my piggy bank anyways."  
  
"I don't do that!"  
  
"You're such a liar, Sans. Can we go home now? This is a place is a bad influence."  
  
Sans slammed his shoulder into Papyrus as he passed. "That's exactly why I like it.”  
  
Papyrus's expression tensed with repressed rage. Still, he seemed to be content that Sans was getting a move on and they started the trek back to the laboratory together.  
  
The laboratory loomed over the surrounding buildings without remorse or any sign that it served as their prison. The walk was quiet, which was fine with Sans. He wasn't so happy with the annoyed looks Papyrus kept shooting towards him. Sans deliberately walked at a slower pace, forcing his brother to stop every few feet to wait for him to catch up.  
  
"Y'know, I thought older siblings were supposed to be responsible, not the other way around," Papyrus blurted out.  
  
“I’m only a few year old than you,” Sans pointed out.  
  
“Doesn’t matter. You need to be responsible.”  
  
“I was never good at meeting expectations.”  
  
"No kidding. Y'know, if you put as much effort into your school work as you did to sneaking out, your grades wouldn't be so lousy."  
  
"Way to rub it in."  
  
"I'm trying to motivate you."  
  
"Eh, we both know that's kind of a lost cause."  
  
"...Do you do this just to get on my nerves?"  
  
"Oh, that's just a bonus prize. Like dessert!”  
  
Papyrus opened his mouth to retaliate, but never got to finish his thought.  
  
Sans quickly saw the reason why Papyrus had gone quiet. They had just rounded the block and entered a decorative courtyard that housed many shops that he frequented when the arcade was closed. The area was aesthetically pleasing, with a garden filled with flowers native to Hotland and a fountain depicting Asgore, the king. However, Sans found it hard to appreciate the beauty when he saw the gang of kids whose appearance he so often dreaded.  
  
Sans didn't usually run into trouble while out. But the gang gave him some trouble and he tried to avoid them at all costs. They were a few years older than him and headed by an unpleasant arthropodic monster named Oswald. Oswald was easily the largest of the group, and had too many eyes for Sans to count.  
  
"Shoot," Papyrus groaned. "Sans, don't go provoking them."  
  
"Not even for fun?" Sans asked, his grin unfaltering.  
  
Sans and Papyrus made an attempt to make a wide berth around the group, yet it was already too late. Oswald had caught sight of them and was quick to intercept their path, his gang of five or six peers shadowing him. Sans wasn't usually self-conscious of his height, but he was now as the kids towered over him.  
  
"Hey, One-Hitpoint Wonder," Oswald beamed down at him. It wasn't even a nice sort of beaming, just one that reeked with sarcasm and dislike.  
  
Sans surveyed him, up and down. He wasn't sure which eye to look into, so he picked a pair directly on Oswald's forehead.  
  
"That's _eye-ronic_ coming from you," Sans winked. "You can't have more HP than me."  
  
Oswald glowered. "Big mouth for such a small monster."  
  
"C'mon, Oswald, if we talk this out, I'm sure we'll see _eye-to-eye_."  
  
"Stop!"  
  
"Now look what you've done. My puns are getting _cornea and cornea_!"  
  
"You said you wouldn't provoke them," Papyrus hissed.  
  
"I don't recall making that promise."  
  
Oswald's multiple eyes narrowed. "Hmph. You really do belong in a lab. What does your dad do in there all day, anyways? Are you contagious or something?"  
  
"I have a contagious sense of humour, yes" Sans answered.  
  
"You really are something," Oswald scoffed. "Nothing seems to bother you. I could insult your dad all I want and you'd just stand there and take it."  
  
"That's because I agree with most of what you say.”  
  
"Since we're in agreement, then..." Oswald grabbed the front of Sans's hoodie and lifted him off the ground. "Let's just skip to the part where I reduce your Hitpoint to nothing."  
  
For an extended second Oswald's glare remained unblinking and unshakeable on Sans's face. Then, one eye flicked to the left, followed by another, and then all the rest in a steady movement as if a thousand embers were drifting in the wind. Oswald's attention shifted—because Papyrus had also shifted, his hand extending to grab Oswald's wrist in a period of time that seemed much longer than it actually was. Lines of surprise etched in Oswald's face.  
  
"Leave him alone," Papyrus demanded. His voice was quiet.  
  
"I've got this, Papyrus," Sans said quickly. "It's going to take a lot more than Oswald to do any real damage."  
  
"You can't just go pushing people around," Papyrus continued, ignoring Sans. "It's not right."  
  
Sans could see the exact moment in Oswald's eyes that he lost interest in beating him up. His fingers released Sans and he dropped. Oh, boy.  
  
"It's not right, huh?" Oswald mused. "That's assuming you two are even real monsters.”  
  
Sans pulled his hood over his head.  
  
"Word's been going around for years that you two were made in a test tube," Oswald advanced on Papyrus.  
  
Papyrus retreated, putting up his arms to defend himself. The confidence slipped from his face, replaced with fear.  
  
"T—that's not true!" Papyrus protested. Although his voice quivered, he didn't look like he was about to bolt.  
  
"Your dad made you to experiment on," Oswald affirmed. "So you're not actually monsters, see. I can push you around all I want."  
  
"It's not true!" Papyrus repeated.  
  
"You really think that, huh? Everyone knows you don't count as real monsters. I bet if we throw you in that fountain over there, no one will try to stop us. Want to test it out?"  
  
Oswald and his gang swarmed over Papyrus, grabbing his arms and legs and hauling him over to the fountain of Asgore. Sans searched the area for an adult—and there were some. But they didn't seem interested. They only glanced in their direction before going back to their business. Sans remained glued to the spot.  
  
To his credit, Papyrus put up a valiant fight, his arms and legs flailing as he tried to resist the other children. It was no use, though. With a cheer and a heave, the kids—Oswald at the head—tossed Papyrus into the fountain with a great splash.  
  
Cheering all around. A few final taunts. The kids, laughing and grinning and looking like they were having the time of their life. Fortunately, their thirst to embarrass Papyrus seemed to have run its course and they backed off.  
  
Sans waited until they had moved off before he approached the fountain. He found Papyrus sitting in the knee-deep water, soaking wet and with his expression laced with embarrassment.  
  
Papyrus sniffed and got to his feet. "Thanks for the help."  
  
"Hey, it's not like I'd be able to get them to stop," Sans chimed. "Besides, I told you to stay out of it."  
  
"If I stayed out of it, then I'd be like you."  
  
Sans didn't have an answer to that.  
  
Papyrus climbed out of the fountain and rung out the end of his t-shirt to no avail. This was going to take some explaining to Gaster, but Papyrus didn't voice any of his worries for the rest of the way home.  
  


* * *

  
The kitchen table was quiet, save for the quiet scraping of Gaster's pencil on paper. The dinner was unappetizing.  
  
Sans glared at the plate of half-cooked pasta and wondered if Gaster was trying to poison them socially and physically. This was the only time of the day when all three members of their family would gather together, but Gaster was no cook. Most of the table was occupied by Gaster's work anyways, which he always brought to his meals.  
  
He chanced looking up from his food. Gaster was an exceptionally tall monster, taller than any other monster Sans knew. It was his face that was interesting, though, for his features projected a kind of cleverness and strange concentration. Like he was always focused on something that no one else could see, in search of the answer to an impossible question. It was a wonder Gaster noticed anything outside of his work at all.  
  
However, there was a noticeable absence at the table today. Papyrus's place remained empty and his food untouched. The moment they'd come home, he'd rushed to change his clothes before Gaster saw them and he had yet to come back.  
  
"What'cha working on?" Sans asked Gaster, poking at his food.  
  
Gaster didn't immediately respond.  
  
"...Gaster?" said Sans.  
  
"Hm?" Gaster looked up. "Sans, I'm your father. Call me Dad."  
  
"Okay, Gaster."  
  
"Ugh," Gaster rolled his eyes. For the first time, he looked towards Papyrus's seat. "Where's your brother?"  
  
"Upstairs," Sans answered.  
  
"Papyrus, dinner's ready!" Gaster shouted.  
  
There was a pause. Then, heavy footsteps.  
  
"Papyrus..." Gaster groaned.  
  
Seconds later, Papyrus tore down the hall and flew into his seat. His chair skidded against the floor.  
  
Gaster's small eyes narrowed. "...You changed your clothes."  
  
"Oh, uh...yeah," Papyrus confirmed. "Good food, Dad!"  
  
"You haven't eaten anything yet."  
  
"Oh, well, I know it's good because you made it!"  
  
Sans slapped his face. Papyrus really was a terrible liar, even if the situation didn't require outright lying. All Papyrus had to do was omit information, but could he even do that? Nope.  
  
"So, what'cha working on, Gaster?" Sans changed the subject.  
  
Gaster tore his eyes away from Papyrus. "Research for the barrier, as usual."  
  
"Do you think we could see the barrier someday?" Papyrus asked, latching onto the change of conversation.  
  
"Perhaps," said Gaster. “…What are you two hiding?"  
  
"Ugh, can we go one meal without you accusing us of hiding something?" Sans groaned.  
  
"...Only if you stop hiding things."  
  
"Well, we're not hiding anything," Sans snapped. "At least I'm not."  
  
Gaster looked at Papyrus. "Papyrus?"  
  
"Of course we're not!" Papyrus agreed, his voice several octaves higher than it should have been.  
  
"Why did you change your clothes?"  
  
"I...I just felt like changing. I mean, my shirt was red, but I felt like wearing green at dinner..."  
  
"You don't change your clothes unless they're dirty. Unlike Sans, you can't stand dirty clothes."  
  
"Well, yeah, but I just...I just wanted to..."  
  
"What happened to your other clothes?"  
  
Sans kicked Papyrus under the table.  
  
"Um, I...uh," Papyrus stammered. "They were...they were wet."  
  
Sans kicked him again.  
  
"How did they get wet?" Gaster asked. "You were watering the garden, weren't you?"  
  
"Yeah, but...I didn't get them wet in the garden."  
  
"Papyrus!" Sans groaned.  
  
"Sorry," Papyrus muttered. "Some...some kids threw me in a fountain."  
  
"...Some kids threw you in a fountain," Gaster repeated.  
  
Gaster's hollow and stern gaze shifted between Papyrus and Sans. Sans could see in his sockets as his mind searched for the answer.  
  
"Sans," said Gaster. "You left the laboratory again, didn't you?"  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sans shrugged.  
  
"Don't lie," said Gaster. "Papyrus wouldn't leave the laboratory unless it was to retrieve you. Unlike you, I can trust him. What I don't understand is why you didn't tell me, Papyrus."  
  
"You...you were busy," Papyrus murmured.  
  
Gaster massaged his forehead. "Never mind, we'll discuss that later. Sans we have talked about this over and over again, and I'm getting tired of repeating myself. I'm tired of you deliberately disobeying my instructions and I'm tired of this ridiculous attitude. You could at least wait until you're a teenager to do all that, but do you have to do this when you're nine?”  
  
"I can't help it," Sans said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "If I'm not careful, I'll turn into Papyrus."  
  
"I don't see that as a negative," said Papyrus.  
  
"Yeah, you wouldn't, you bonehead.”  
  
"Sans!" Gaster hissed. "I don't know...why you..."  
  
Gaster trailed off. His head snapped up at full attention, his fingers clutching the table. Just as his entire demeanour shifted, Sans heard a knock on the front door.  
  
"Damn," Gaster muttered. "He's early as usual."  
  
"Who is?" Papyrus asked.  
  
"I want you both to go to your room."  
  
"What?!" Papyrus exclaimed. "I didn't do anything wrong!"  
  
"Just go to your room."  
  
"You can't leave me in the same room as him!"  
  
"Papyrus—really. Go to your room."  
  
Papyrus let out a frustrated groan and stormed out.  
  
Sans raced Papyrus down the hall and around the corner, though he knew he had no hope of beating him. Papyrus had longer legs and more incentive, and reached the bedroom long before him. He swung inside and slammed the door shut. When Sans went for the doorknob, he heard a faint click and it jiggled under his grasp.  
  
"Let me in, Papyrus!" Sans yelled.  
  
"No!" Papyrus shouted.  
  
“PAPYRUS!"  
  
Sans tried the doorknob again, to no avail. He settled for kicking the door.  
  
Around the corner, Sans heard the door open and distant voices conversing in low tones. He instinctively froze. If Gaster found him outside their room, he would kill him.  
  
He waited for a few minutes, listening to see if Gaster was going to come check on them. But he didn't. Instead, Sans tracked the footsteps and voices as they instead turned into the kitchen.  
  
Hell, if he was going to be stuck out here anyways...  
  
Sans crept back down the hall and peered around the corner. He could see his father's shadow cast into the hall, accompanied by another shadow so large that it entirely enveloped Gaster's.  
  
"—should have come later," said Gaster. "I didn't even get a chance to go get more tea. All I have is Earl Grey."  
  
"Earl Grey is fine."  
  
The stranger's voice was booming, hearty, and welcoming.  
  
"Oh, did I interrupt you in the middle of dinner?"  
  
"Yes. And you planned it that way, didn't you, Asgore?"  
  
Asgore? Sans's breath caught. He always knew that his father was a personal friend of the King of Monsters, but he'd never seen Asgore in person, nor had he ever known him to come near the laboratory. Sans became still and strained to listen in.  
  
"Would you like some of the leftovers?" Gaster asked. "I think I have another clean plate around here some—oh. Well, um...help yourself."  
  
"This is delicious!" Asgore raved. "Do you have more?"  
  
"Oh. Oh, I haven't seen you eat that much in just one bite since...Um, please don't eat the plate—I have more here."  
  
"You know, you should really come have dinner at the palace," said Asgore. "I'd love to meet your sons."  
  
"We both know you are a terrible cook."  
  
"Then perhaps we could eat at the resort?"  
  
"Too crowded."  
  
"Oh, there's this delicious fast food place that just opened and—"  
  
"Too fatty."  
  
"Excuse me? This is fast food we're talking about. Let's face it, Gaster. You just need to get out more."  
  
"I'm busy. My sons are a handful."  
  
"How old are they now?"  
  
"Nine and eight.”  
  
There was an emptiness in the air.  
  
"...Asgore?" Gaster prompted.  
  
"That's good...that's good...I really wish you would let me meet them."  
  
"I'm sorry, but it's better if you didn't."  
  
"I know," Asgore said quietly. "Well, I suppose we better get down to business."  
  
"I need more time for the barrier, Asgore," Gaster said before the king could continue. "You have to be patient. Magic that complex...especially magic that humans created...it's not easy to destroy even with the SOULs we have.”  
  
Asgore chuckled. He had a deep, hearty chuckle that seemed to resonate through the very foundations of the laboratory.  
  
"It's difficult to be patient for thousands of years," said Asgore. "I daresay it's a good thing we monsters live for so long. Do you remember when we first came here, and you said that you could destroy it within a century?”  
  
"It was a long time ago," Gaster pointed out. "I was capricious and overly confident about the superiority of monster magic over humans."  
  
"Are you admitting that the humans are better at us in something?"  
  
"God forbid. What I'm saying is that we've never truly been able to determine the nature behind the magic they used to seal us down here. If I could just find out where they obtained that kind of power, then that would solve most of the issues the barrier presents."  
  
"It's a bit of a pickle, yes."  
  
Gaster huffed. "It's a bit more than a 'pickle', Asgore. This is our freedom we're talking about. My sons have never seen the stars, do you know that? Most monsters alive now have forgotten the sun and become content with this gilded cage. Yes, we have the resources necessary to survive, but it's still empty. This is still exile. We were banished from the world that we dominated, all because the humans are a conniving and cruel race."  
  
"I really should know better than to talk about the barrier when you're around."  
  
"One of us has to care about the future of our people."  
  
The tension in the air became murky, much like the relationship Sans entertained with his father.  
  
"I'm...I'm sorry, that was...never mind," Gaster sighed. "It's just difficult being one of the last monsters left alive who remembers the surface."  
  
"Being old isn't much fun, no," Asgore admitted.  
  
"Please don't call us old,” Gaster paused. There was a slight clatter, which Sans thought might be the sound of an eating utensil being dropped to the floor. "It's difficult. Being part of a dying generation, terrified of dying under this mountain."  
  
Asgore let out a long sigh. "Why don't you get the tea, Wingding? I think you need it more than I do."  
  
The kettle was singing. A chair scraped against the floor and there were footsteps while Gaster muddled about preparing the tea.  
  
"Not all of us are gone, you know," Asgore continued. "If you just got out of this lab and interacted with the world more, you wouldn't be so unhappy.”  
  
"The only thing that would make me happy is if all humans died."  
  
"Huh, you never change, do you? Anyways, I don't think that—(Thank you, this smells lovely)—I don't think that killing all the humans would solve our problems."  
  
"I suppose not. I suppose it would be better if they never existed. Problem solved."  
  
"Wingding, that's enough. I don't want to get into another argument. We'll both just say something we'll regret."  
  
China clinking together. A deep sigh from Asgore.  
  
"You know, the tea smells lovely, but it tastes bitter," he noticed.  
  
"Does it?" Gaster asked. "Hm...maybe this isn't tea after all..."  
  
"Oh, dear."  
  
"Asgore...there was a reason you came here. What was it?"  
  
"Oh. Oh! Yes, thank you for reminding me. Here, I brought something for you."  
  
Shuffling robes. Dead silence.  
  
"When did you get this?" Gaster asked.  
  
"Recently."  
  
"...The fourth SOUL. Only three more and then we can break the barrier. At least, I hope we can. Was it a difficult fight?"  
  
"No. No, it wasn't."  
  
"I see. You didn't come down here just to give me this in person, did you?"  
  
"No, no, there was—there's another reason. It's just...I don't know how to bring it up."  
  
"Well, spit it out, already."  
  
"It's not that simple. It's another one of those pesky difficult decisions."  
  
"Those are the worst. Well, what is it this time?"  
  
"Listen, do you remember the war? You...you know that the humans weren't the only ones who did terrible things back then, yes? In our desperation to win the war, we had to resort to drastic measures. Fight harder than we ever had before. And you know, fighting has always been against our nature. We don’t fight unless we’re backed into a corner.”  
  
"I know," said Gaster. "Where are you going with this?"  
  
"Well, I was reminded of the war recently. Do you remember Dr Alphys?"  
  
"Alphys?...Alphys...Wasn't she that—what was she? A lizard or something. I remember...I remember she wanted to be my assistant, but I turned her away. I don't work well with others."  
  
Asgore chuckled. "Yes, that's Alphys alright. Well, I've met her a few times, but these last few years she's been away conducting research. Recently she came to me with an interesting proposal."  
  
"Asgore, you really should regulate who is permitted to see you. I swear, you let anyone walk into that throne room of yours."  
  
"Oh, I find Alphys very endearing once you get to know her. Anyways, she had a proposal. A project she was working on, but she needed funding."  
  
"I can see where this is going. Please tell me you rejected it."  
  
"Yes, but not for the reasons you think. Look, I want you to look at these papers she gave me. It outlines her proposal in full."  
  
Shuffling papers. A pause much longer than the rest.  
  
"Really?" Gaster groaned. "A human-killing robot? I admit, the idea of a robot constructed for the soul purpose of eliminating humans on sight has its appeals, but it seems a little audacious even for her."  
  
"Still...still, it got me thinking of the measures we had to resort to during the war. Do you remember?"  
  
"...Asgore, I—"  
  
"The monsters we forged," Asgore continued quietly. "The sentient beings we built..."  
  
"...Asgore...you want to reopen that project? You want me to create a living weapon. A monster whose sole purpose is to kill humans the moment they set foot outside the Ruins."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I—I don't understand. If that's what you wanted, then why not go for this ridiculous robot project?"  
  
“Believe me, Alphys's argument was passionate, but I just...I just don't like the idea of a robot defending us. I mean, what if it malfunctions and turns on us? At least a monster could be easily killed if need be, but what if this robot is too powerful? You are the Royal Scientist. You understand the cohesion of magic and technology better than anyone."  
  
"This isn't a good idea, Asgore. During the war it was different. We needed living soldiers. Now those battlefields have gone quiet and you can kill any human that crosses your path. Those living soldiers had feelings and independent thought, and that just interfered with their duties. I know we've done many, many awful things in our attempts to break the barrier...but we have never harmed another monster. What you're suggesting is forging a monster into something that contradicts our very nature."  
  
"...You've done this before, Gaster."  
  
Gaster let out a breath so sharp that it was like he'd been stabbed.  
  
"You know how I feel about that project, Asgore," he said lowly. "If you value our friendship, you won't bring it up again."  
  
"It's not like you'd be starting from scratch. All you have to do is continue where you left off."  
  
"That experiment was a failure! And this living weapon you want is unnecessary. You can handle any human that invades the underground with ease. Hell, I know you can! I saw you kill thousands of those creatures during the war!"  
  
"I'm...I'm just tired, Wingding. All the humans I've killed so far...they've just been children...Just innocent children..."  
  
"Innocent?! Asgore, these are the descendants of the humans who murdered our own children thousands of years ago! We lost everything to those beasts! They don't deserve mercy! If I could, I'd go out and kill them myself! I would kill a thousand humans before I dared harm another monster! You only want a living weapon so you can pass on the responsibility of collecting these souls to someone else!”  
  
"...The last human that came through killed several monsters."  
  
Gaster went quiet. "Are you serious?"  
  
"Yes. I had to intervene when they arrived at Snowdin."  
  
"Oh, dear. You actually left Hotland?"  
  
"Yes, and still I was too late to save the monsters that died...That's why I want a living weapon. So that the humans can die right after they leave the Ruins without threatening any other monster."  
  
Gaster exhaled. "I guess it's practical. But wouldn't a robot be better suited for that kind of task?"  
  
"A robot doesn't feel. A robot doesn't understand. A robot wouldn't be able to understand the needs behind us monsters, nor would it have empathy for the humans it kills."  
  
"Oh, Asgore, you're so sentimental. If that's your reason for rejecting the proposal, then Chara did a worse number on you than I thought. You know a robot would be more practical, but you just don’t care. You want a living weapon that has motivation, purpose, and meaning behind its actions, that understands what it needs to do. If you’re not going to be impartial about this, then I don’t know if I want to be a part of it.”  
  
“I’m afraid this isn’t up for discussion.”  
  
“Are you…are you actually pulling rank?”  
  
“I’m told it’s one of the advantages of being a king.”  
  
“You really are set on this, aren’t you?…I just don’t understand, Asgore. Why are you so soft when it comes to humans? After all they did to us?”  
  
Asgore didn’t answer.  
  
“I guess you’re not giving me a choice in the matter,” Gaster realized. “If you really want me to ignore all ethical boundaries and resort back to those desperate measures we used in the war, so be it. But I’m not the one who’s going to shoulder the responsibility when monsters ask questions.”  
  
“I understand.”  
  
“And Asgore…for your own sake, and the sake of monsters everywhere, don’t show humans the same mercy you would show a monster. None of them deserve it. Not one.”  
  
Sans couldn’t stand to listen anymore. He retreated back to the bedroom door, where the voices in the kitchen were indiscernible. Papyrus shuffled inside their bedroom, but he suddenly lacked the energy to perpetuate another argument.  
  
Sans sat in front of the door, and waited.  
  


* * *

  
"Sans?"  
  
Sans startled awake. He shot upright so quickly that his head slammed against the bedroom door. Dazed, he reached up to massage his neck.  
  
"Ow," he groaned.  
  
He must've fallen asleep. Sans couldn't be sure what time it was, but judging by the dim lightning and the sense that he'd been asleep for a long period of time, he guessed that it was late at night. And no longer was he in front of the door alone, because Gaster loomed over him.  
  
"Hi," Sans said meekly. "Papyrus locked me out. You could say that he adores me.”  
  
Gaster's face was a culmination of worry and intense sadness.  
  
"How long have you been sitting here?"  
  
"Feels like forever."  
  
"Sans, were you listening in on my meeting with King Asgore?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Sans..."  
  
"I only heard the first part," Sans admitted. "After you started talking about killing humans it got a little heavy handed even for me."  
  
Gaster sighed. "I'm sorry, Sans. I didn't want you to hear that."  
  
Sans curled his legs up to his chest and pulled his hood over his head.  
  
"...Can I sit down?" Gaster asked.  
  
"It's a free carpet," Sans shrugged.  
  
Gaster’s legs were so long that he couldn't outstretch them comfortably in the narrow hall and he settled for bracing his feet against the wall. They said nothing to each other, though judging by the tension on the air Sans sensed that his father was trying to come up with the right words to say.  
  
"Are humans really that bad?" Sans asked. "Did a human really kill some monsters?"  
  
Gaster nodded. "Yes. And a lot more monsters died by their hands during the war."  
  
"You really hate them."  
  
"Very much so. I lost many good friends to humans. I had some who were turned to dust...and others who just...became lost altogether."  
  
Sans turned over Gaster and Asgore's conversation over in his mind again and again.  
  
"Did you really make monsters that could only kill humans?" Sans asked.  
  
"Well, that was their lot in life, but some learned to move beyond their station," Gaster explained. "Some though...some didn't quite...adjust as well as others, especially after we came to the Underworld and there weren't any humans to kill."  
  
"Were they born like regular monsters or did you make them artificially?"  
  
Gaster chuckled softly. "Artificial life is difficult to create even with magic. You need certain components to make it work. Most were born just like other monsters and then raised to kill humans."  
  
"Was the war long?" Sans questioned. He felt a flood of questions pouring out of him. He'd never gotten his father to talk about the war this much before. Every time he'd broached the subject before, it had gotten changed as quickly as it had come up.  
  
Gaster hesitated, and put an arm around his shoulders. "It felt longer than it actually was."  
  
"You must be old."  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"You were alive during the war. Are you old like Asgore?"  
  
"Not as old as him. Asgore is a special case. Most monsters can live for thousands of years anyways, but Asgore is essentially immortal."  
  
"So you were alive during the war, but you're not immortal like Asgore?"  
  
"Precisely."  
  
"How does that work?"  
  
“It’s complicated. It would take too long to explain. Perhaps you'd know the answer to that if you paid attention to your studies more."  
  
Sans removed his hood. "Asgore gave you a human SOUL, didn't he?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Could I see it? I've never seen a SOUL before."  
  
"...Maybe. I'll think about it."  
  
"In your lab, do you work on ways to beat humans?"  
  
"Well, up until now that hasn't been a huge priority, but yes, I have researched that in the past. I do a variety of things as the Royal Scientist."  
  
Sans nodded knowingly.  
  
"Sans...what can I do to make you happy?" Gaster asked.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"That must be why you keep running away like that—because you aren't happy. So, what do you need? I can get you more DVDs. Or—perhaps your school work isn't challenging enough?"  
  
"Gaster—"  
  
"I know....I know you and Papyrus struggle to get along sometimes...I know you have to get tired of each other's company. I—I never had a sibling, so I don't know what it's like. But, would it help it I arranged to have some children come over to play? I know some employees in the palace who have children. It would be a simple matter to have some of them come over once in a while."  
  
"Gaster."  
  
"Are you tired of Hotland? I have a house in Snowdin, you know. It's a private retreat I used before you and Papyrus were born and—and there's even a laboratory in the basement I could use. We could go on vacation! It's not an especially interesting place, but maybe the fresh air would do you some—"  
  
"Dad!"  
  
Gaster stopped.  
  
"You don't understand," Sans murmured. "I just want to go out like other kids. I want to go to school."  
  
"Sans, I can't let you do that," said Gaster. "It's more dangerous out there than you realize."  
  
"I hate sneaking around like this!"  
  
"I know you do. It's just—it's just not as simple as you make it out to be. I've trusted you to remain in the laboratory, Sans, but you've violated that trust. You won't do it again. Don't make me lock the gate."  
  
"If you wanted to keep us in here all the time, I don't see why you wouldn't lock the gate to begin with," said Sans. "You want me to be happy, but I don't think I can be under the circumstances."  
  
"Haven't I given you everything you've ever needed?" Gaster asked. "And—and soon, you'll be old enough to help out in the laboratory. That'll be exciting, won't it?"  
  
Sans shook his head. "I don't care about the lab. You should know that by now.”  
  
Sans stood and tried the doorknob. He found it unlocked; Papyrus must've unlocked it when he wasn't looking and it freely swung open. Papyrus was sitting on his bed, a book in his lap and his lamp on the nightstand on. His whole body jerked and he scrambled to open the book, pretending he hadn't listened in on the exchange.  
  
Sans threw himself into his own bed and pulled the sheets over his head.  
  
"Um...you're not in your pyjamas," Papyrus noted.  
  
"Sans, please talk to me," Gaster urged, following him in. "Sans!"  
  
"Um...Dad?" Papyrus cut in. "Could you read me a bedtime story?"  
  
Gaster sighed. "I'm sorry, Papyrus. Not tonight. Asgore gave me some important work I need to get started on."  
  
"Oh. I understand."  
  
Gaster moved to the opposite side of the room. Sans heard Papyrus's bed creak as his father sat on it.  
  
"I'll tell you what," Gaster said quietly. "How about I read you two stories tomorrow night?"  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
"Even if I want you to read the same story twice?"  
  
"Promise."  
  
"Okay, it's a deal! G'night, Dad."  
  
Sans lifted the side of his sheets. Gaster bent over Papyrus's bed, turned out the lamp, and pulled the sheets up to his son's chin. He finished the tucking-in ritual with a kiss on Papyrus's forehead.  
  
When Gaster turned to look towards Sans, he pulled the sheets back over his head.  
  
"Sans, we'll talk about this more tomorrow," said Gaster. "I think you will have calmed down by then."  
  
Sans remained still as he heard Gaster head down the hall, pause, and then resume the familiar trek back down to the laboratory.  
  
Sans dug his face into his arms. He wished things could be different.

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a multichaptered fic, but frankly I don't really have the time for it and I'm too invested in some of my other fandoms to be paying much attention to this right now. So, now it's a oneshot!


End file.
